


Wyoming Territory

by cschoolgirl



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Western
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 20:35:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3783514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cschoolgirl/pseuds/cschoolgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the old West, Marie nurses an injured Logan back to health.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wyoming Territory

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my beta SJ, Jamie, and Margaret.

  
[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/122055731@N02/16578630604)

It had been almost five months since Marie's Pa died suddenly. She had buried him next to Ma on the hillside. Then she was completely alone.

The first week she was by herself, she thought of making the long journey to one of the mining camps at South Pass. Even if she did make it there, then what? They were rough, lawless places with few prospects for a young woman. The isolated ranch was all she knew and everything she had was there. The ranch was who she was.

In the end Marie made the choice to stay at the ranch nestled in the little valley between the mountains. There was enough work to keep her busy. Occasionally she would invent extra work to do if the ranch became too quiet. During the long summer months she would ride the range keeping an eye on the few head of cattle Pa had always grazed.

Late one afternoon, as she swung back toward the cabin, she spotted a rider. Only a handful of riders ever ventured into her valley and even fewer stopped as they push north to the goldfields. She watched the rider from the shelter of the trees. 

Marie had a moment of panic. Every story she had ever heard about what could happen to a woman alone filtered through her brain. She pushed the panic down and scrutinized the situation like Pa taught her.

Her rifle was in the scabbard on the saddle and Pa's old Dragoon Colt was belted on her waist. She studied the rider and noticed that he seemed asleep in the saddle. Urging her horse out of the tree line, she guided her mount toward the other horse. It pricked up its ears and gave a soft whinny before it began to walk in her direction.

That's when she saw it. The rider was slumped in the saddle, his body bobbed unnaturally with every step. Taking a chance, Marie cantered her horse over. The man had a hand lashed to the pommel and there was dried blood on his shoulder.

For a moment she thought he must be dead and reached out a tentative hand to touch him. "Sir?" She was rewarded with a low moan. 

On impulse, she gathered up the reins and led the horse back to the cabin. Once there, she turned her own horse into the corral and put away her gear while thinking over the idea of how to get an unconscious man out of the saddle. Her first thought was to simply loosen the cinch, letting him and the saddle tumble off the horse onto the ground, but discarded that idea as too mean. 

In the end she led the horse to the old stump by the cabin door. After freeing the man's feet from the stirrups, she stood on the stump hoping to ease his descent. He was tall and muscular, though he seemed half awake now trying to help her; she struggled to get him off the horse and into the cabin.

When she finally had him laid upon the bed, she realized he had been shot twice. She didn't know how she missed the dried blood at his hip. Though neither wound was life threatening, they must be cared for due to the amount of blood he had lost.

It seemed inappropriate to Marie that she should be undressing this man. Her Pa had always stressed modesty. But Pa wasn't here and she didn't want to dig another grave; so she went about the task, averting her eyes while cleaning and bandaging his wounds.

When she was finished and had him resting in bed, she hung his well-used gunbelt and pistols on the bedpost, within easy reach. Marie suspected he was a gunfighter or at least a man with a reputation of being good with a gun, possibly an outlaw. Thankfully he didn't appear to be the type to file notches on his pistol.

She put soup on the hearth to heat as she hurried about taking care of the man's horse. After her chores were completed for the day, she ate then tried to feed him some broth. It had been a long day and Marie started for the loft, turning over the events of the afternoon in her mind. What if he awakened in the night and needed tending? She might not hear him.

She retrieved her bedding from the loft and settled in for the night on the floor. That only lasted half the night before she took over a small portion of the bed after he woke her for the third time, as he talked while in the fits of a fever.

For the next week Marie stayed close to the cabin, avoiding any work that might take her away for long periods. He muttered less now that his fever had broken. She was even able to get him to swallow some broth. She found herself talking to him, because even unconscious he was better company than the milk cow and chickens.

* * *

When Logan finally came to for long enough to piece together where he was, he's grateful. Then he noticed that it was a little slip of a girl that had brought him back from the edge of death. Not only was she continuing to take care of him, but she also did all the work around the place. He was determined to be up and about as quickly as possible so he wouldn't be a burden. 

Still, some nights he woke with a start, reaching for his gun, momentarily unaware of his surroundings. The quiet breathing of the girl nearby calmed him and brought him back to the present.

When he felt well enough to do more than lay in bed; Marie bashfully gave him his clothes, washed and mended, looking better than any time since they were new. Logan still tired easily and needed his bandages checked daily. It bothered him that he took pleasure in the feel of her hands and the way her cheeks flushed as she took care of his wounds. Even more annoying was how he had become accustomed to three meals a day and listening to her read aloud in the evenings.

It went against the grain for him to watch as someone else did all the work, but Marie seemed content to have him amble about the cabin and surrounding yard. He could only smile at her the first time he tried to help and received a scolding for his efforts.

The first time he was able to saddle his horse and mount up without assistance was bittersweet. He saw the worry in her face and assured her that he would be back for supper. He spent the next few hours making a circuit of the valley, lazily pushing a couple head of cows closer to the home range. At the end of the day he was glad to see Marie, the cabin, and a hot meal. He wanted to believe it was only because he was worn out and not really ready to be back in the saddle.

The following weeks fall into the same pattern. He knew he was strong enough to leave, but was reluctant to go. He told himself that he was helping her get ready for winter; once the wood was stacked and enough meat put up, he'd ride on. But damned if that girl didn't have a way of working her way under his skin and lodging herself somewhere beneath his ribs.

The first snow caught him off guard; it must be early this year. They woke up one morning to a world of white and he knew that he'd be there until the spring thaw. Marie spent the days with a smile and her usual humming turned into singing more than once. He cursed himself for giving her false expectations. That night he moved his bedding into the loft. The winter would be too long for them to continue sharing the bed like they had been.

They eased into a winter routine, continuing on much as they had with one exception: privacy. The cabin had seemed big enough when a body could step outside to give the other privacy, but now… it didn't help to be up in the loft listening to the sounds of her bathing.

Logan was short tempered those days. The thoughts that crossed his mind, the things he wanted to do for her and to her were not ideas he should be entertaining. He was a drifter with no right to be thinking of her like that. He had nothing to offer any woman but a sordid past, which would eventually catch up to him and bring her misery.

When they talked over supper, he tried to tell her that he was a bad man. Someday a bullet would be the end of him. Her answer was always the same; you never know what life had in store for you.

* * *

"Merry Christmas, Logan!" Marie anxiously handed him a small bundle wrapped in a checkered cloth.

He had seen her working on something during the past weeks, but gave it no thought. He couldn't ever remember celebrating Christmas, let alone exchanging gifts. Not knowing how to react, he mumbled a thank you as he unfolded the cloth to reveal socks.

"Will you try them on?" she asked optimistically. "I hope they fit. I haven't made any in a long time."

Logan did as she asked, then pulled his boots back on. Standing up, he knew that he would never have been able to afford socks this nice at the mercantile. They were warm and soft, and he felt embarrassed for accepting them. He was at a loss of what to say and finally settled on the obvious. "I don't have a gift for you."

Marie hugged him and he awkwardly returned it before she pulled back far enough to look him in the eye. "You staying is gift enough." 

He knew she should withdraw from her embrace; however, she had been taking up more and more space in his head and now she was in his arms. Instead he kissed her, softly at first, but it turned into something harder, a need for both of them.

When they finally came up for air, Logan made good on the escape he should have made earlier. "I ought to go check on the horses." He fumbled with his coat; the sound of her happy singing surrounded him as he opened the door.

He was a bastard, a complete and utter bastard. Marie was too good for him. Come spring, he would get an itch and want to ride off. In fact, if he left now, he could probably make it out. If he was careful his horse would make it through the deep snow to South Pass. He would be away and she would be spared the heartache.

At the corral he fed each horse an apple that Marie had sent out. Logan rubbed his horse's nose. "We need to leave, Buck." The horse rolled its eyes, snorting at him. "You're crazy for wanting to stay." Buck nipped at his glove looking for more apple before trotting off. 

Logan could do this. He could help Marie through the winter and keep his distance. The kiss, that he was still warm from, wouldn't happen again. He turned back to the cabin, following the scent of apple pie.

* * *

It started out as a simple task; take a ride to make a quick check on the cattle before it snows again. Buck was reluctant at first, but let Logan saddle him after being fed the last of the summer apples. The snow had melted some from the few days of sun they'd been having. There was enough water on the surface of the creek that Logan didn't have to chop a hole in the ice for the cattle.

On the return trip, his horse slipped on a patch of ice, dumping Logan. The spooked horse galloped off toward the cabin, leaving him stranded. He wasn't hurt, well maybe his pride, but the cabin was an hour ride on horseback. There's no alternative to walking and the sooner he started the better. 

His horse had left a good enough path to follow. Logan only began to worry as the few flurries that had hung around all afternoon start to accelerate. Before long the snowflakes grew large and heavy making it hard to see, filling in the tracks left by the horse at the same time. The snow piled up and walking was more difficult. 

He stopped several times in the first hour, as evening approached, to make sure he was still heading in the right direction. He wasn't a man given to prayer, but at that moment he asked the Lord above to get him back to Marie. He didn't want her left alone thinking that he had up and abandoned her.

Logan struggled on through the deep snow. At twilight, the snow tapered off and the sky cleared, bringing out a few stars to guide him. As it became darker, the temperature dropped and he wanted to laugh at the fact that his feet were still warm and snug in the socks Marie made him.

The light from the one cabin window finally came into sight. Logan could see the relief on Marie's face when she opened the door. She immediately stripped him of his snow-encrusted clothes; leaving him in his long johns, wrapped in a blanket in front of the fire. He sipped at the hot coffee after finishing the soup she'd gave him. He felt better and the fatigue was slowly fading from his body.

Marie took stones from near the fire and used them to warm the bed. When she deemed it warm enough, Logan lets himself be led to the bed. He made sure to face away from the other side, he knew what was coming. He listened to the rustle of her clothes as she undressed then slid between the sheets to lay behind him. 

Women weren't foreign to him, he'd 'known' a few over the years, so he could see where this was going. He should avoid it; go to his bedding waiting in the loft. But God help him, this was the first time in his life he didn't want to find a way around a 'problem'.

Marie's breath on his neck and ear were doing more to warm him than the fire had. She gently pulled him over on his back, nestling her head in the crook of his shoulder. His hand brushed the bare skin of her back; she had thought this through more than he wanted to admit. He felt the need to do the right thing. The trouble was, he wasn't sure anymore what the right thing to do for Marie was. She was a woman grown and could make this decision for herself. Still, he felt the need to give her a way out.

"Marie, maybe we shouldn't do this?" His voice sounded weak, even to his ears. It's not even a half-hearted attempt and he knew it.

She unbuttoned his top. "When Buck came back without you, I was scared. Not of being alone, I'm use to that. I was afraid I wouldn't see you again." He didn't resist as she pushed the fabric off his shoulders. "I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you." Freeing his arms of the sleeves she added, "Besides, I'm tired of pretending that my hands are yours at night."

He gave up on any pretense that she didn't hold a special place in his heart. He had the rest of the winter to sort out his thoughts on the subject. "Show me," Logan stated. The rest of the night he let her guide him in what she wanted.

* * *

Spring came too soon for Logan. He wished the winter months with Marie would continue. He can no longer deny that he loved her and had admitted as much to her. He wanted to stay here, to build a life with her. The only problem with this was that trouble had always followed him. His horse had been carrying him away from deadly trouble when Marie found him. 

Now Logan needed to make a decision. If he rode out to finish what he began last summer, there was a chance that he would never make it back. It was only luck that he survived last time. On the other hand, if he stayed the shadow of that fight would hang over them.

Marie came up behind him, slipping her hand into his. "What's wrong?" she asked, resting her head on his shoulder.

"I might need to leave for awhile." Logan wasn't going to sugarcoat this. One thing he had learned about Marie was she wanted the truth, plain and simple, so it can be dealt with head on. He let go of her hand and put his arm around her, drawing her closer. "I've got unfinished business down by South Pass."

"How long will you be gone?" she asked. Logan could tell she was thinking over the problem, because she started playing with the ruffle on her dress.

"I'd be gone about a week." He didn't know what to say to assure her that he would come back, if he could.

"We need coffee and bacon." Marie placed a kiss on his cheek. "Better saddle up the horses. I'll go get my rifle." She walked toward the cabin, calling over her shoulder, "Some sugar might be nice." Turning to look at him, hand on hip, she added, "When we finish up with your business, I might even let you marry me."

Logan walked toward the corral shaking his head. Life certainly brought him a good woman.

~*~


End file.
